when oblivion is calling out your name
by CharmedGatekeeper
Summary: "It isn't the people who die that suffer. It's the people who are left behind. And being one of those people, Richard wished with all his heart that this didn't bring him as much peace as it does."


_**Time for something bittersweet. I needed a break from a multi-chapter story I'm writing, and humour wasn't in the cards. So, here you go.**_

 _ **I listened to**_ **Oblivion by Bastille** _ **while I was writing this, just so you know what frame of mind I was in.**_

 _ **Disclaimer: I own nothing, PO5 is Mr Horowitz's alone.**_

* * *

Death claims those you love dearest. Richard often wrote about different deaths in the local area, especially while he was training in London. Nothing ever happened in Lesser Malling, not really. Well, at least not until Matthew Freeman came to town.

Of course, most people don't understand what the real pain of death is like until they are touched by it.

And Richard has certainly been touched by it now.

It's eerily quiet on the journey back to London. Lohan had not joined them this far – he'd wanted to go back to what was left of Hong Kong, to try and salvage what was left of the Triad and bring it back to its former glory.

He's deserted them, just like he deserted so many others. Like he would've deserted Matt, had circumstances been different.

In this state, Richard can't bring himself to hate him.

Holly is quiet too. Richard doesn't know the girl as well as he would have known Matt, or even Scarlett. He's tried to start a few conversations with her, but her short answers and reddened eyes finally make him give up. He doesn't feel like talking much anyway.

He's still coming to grips with what happened in Oblivion.

(He thinks, somewhere in the back of his mind, that he never will accept it. _Never_.)

(How _can_ you accept something like that? It's impossible.)

He keeps rubbing his hands, imagining the dried blood hasn't been washed off. They don't feel clean anymore. They feel like they've been tainted by something only the mind can see. Something evil.

He would sleep, just to pass the time, but the images always flash when he closes his eyes. The dagger slamming into his friend's chest, the sound of it sliding in _sickening_ and permanently imprinted in his mind. _He can't think about that._

He leans back, hands rubbing viciously, a lump in his throat and a heavy weight in his heart. He swears that this empty feeling will eat him whole. He can feel it gnawing at his insides, and he hates it.

He wants to scream. He wants to cry. He just wants to feel _something_.

All that he finds inside him is a blank void.

* * *

It takes him a little while to settle into the village. Holly had suggested they stay there. He hadn't had an opinion – he was lost, untethered, nowhere and everywhere all at once.

It seemed a lot better than the city.

He meets a woman after a few months. She's beautiful, down-to-earth, and she doesn't judge him for his past. She wants to be a photographer for the newspapers when they get up and running again.

They hit off right away. He falls in love with her.

They're married within the year.

* * *

Their son is born a year later.

Richard cries when he holds him for the first time. He's a perfect little bundle of joy, bright blue eyes and a mop of dark hair flopped on his tiny head.

He cries with joy because he can't believe this child is _his,_ that he helped _create_ this wonderful human being.

But there's a hint of sadness in there, because Matthew Cole looks _just_ like his namesake.

* * *

Richard's life is long and prosperous, even with all the chaos and decay that is so slowly healing around them. He has a wonderful family, a great neighbour in Holly, a good job in a small paper. His dreams of being a famous journalist left a long time ago. He's as happy as he could be, given all that has happened.

He doesn't know how many times Holly asks him to write about his adventures with the Five. He loses count of how many times he says no.

He's almost glad that she decides to interview the Five in her dreams and write the books herself.

He's almost disappointed that, when he sees the Five in _his_ dreams, he wakes the day after.

* * *

It isn't the people who die that suffer. It's the people who are left behind. And being one of those people, Richard wished with all his heart that this didn't bring him as much peace as it does.

He can hear his wife sobbing beside him, he can hear his son trying to comfort her in a breaking voice. His little boy. All grown up.

He often wondered if Matt Freeman would've looked like that, had he lived. If he would've drawn all the girls home. If he would've grown up to play for England. If he would've passed his A-Levels with flying colours, and burned his schoolbooks the day he graduated. If he would've had a normal life.

So many 'if's.

He wished he could be sorry that he's leaving his family, the two people he has grown to love with all his heart. He does. But, deep down, he isn't sorry. Deep down, he knows that they'll be just fine without him.

Besides, he's been waiting for this for a very, very long time.

He's old now. It's time.

As his eyes slip shut, he doesn't feel heavy, and he doesn't see darkness. He feels like he's floating away, toward a bright light and comforting warmth.

He feels free.

* * *

When his eyes open again, he sees an orchard. It's filled with fruit trees of all kinds, heavy with the scent of harvest. There's smoke flowing lazily from a campfire in the distance, and he can hear the sounds of music and laughter.

"Took you long enough."

He spins at the familiar voice. And there he is.

" _Matt_."

He looks a lot better than he did in Oblivion. Than he ever had when Richard knew him. He's grinning, a brightness in his eyes that he had never seen before. Dressed in a hoodie, ripped jeans and scuffed pair of Nikes, he could almost be the Matt that Richard met in Lesser Malling.

He could almost be the boy who died to save the world.

"I was beginning to wonder if you were coming at all," the teen says, a teasing note in his voice.

"You knew I was."

"Yeah. I did." Matt shoves his hands in his pockets, smiling wryly.

"We've got a lot of catching up to do," Richard says, walking closer. He can feel his age melting away, wrinkles and grey hairs disappearing with every step, until he's twenty five again. Like nothing ever changed.

"Yeah, we do," Matt grins slightly at him, a gleeful light in his eyes, and it's just like old times. He claps Matt on the back and follows him down toward the fire and the laughter, the weight that built over the years finally falling from Richard's shoulders. This is where he belongs now.

 _He's home._


End file.
